


interlude: wings

by kouje



Series: blueberry eyes [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - K-pop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Jet (Avatar) Is An Asshole, Zuko (Avatar) Gets a Hug, this isnt what i would call "good" but it is what i would call "existent"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:34:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kouje/pseuds/kouje
Summary: the year between soolong's departure from zhaoworks and redebut under white lotus was, in a word, rough - but it was also one of friends, of family, and of healing.prequel to blueberry eyes, which is deffo required for context
Series: blueberry eyes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049468
Comments: 34
Kudos: 86





	1. one

✩ _January_ ✩

Zuko ignored the quiet knock on the door in favor of staring at the white bandages covering half of his face, his hollow eyes seeming all the more hollow in the poorly-lit bathroom mirror of his hospital suite. He’d been there for nearly two weeks, and the first three days had been spent in a medically-induced coma. The burn was _bad_ , he knew that. It had become infected, and the resulting fever had made things touch-and-go for a while, but the doctors had pulled him through. They told him his _resilience_ pulled him through, but if there was anything he thought he wasn’t at that point, it was _resilient_. 

They had saved his eye, though, which was a better outcome than anyone had thought would happen. The optometrist said he would likely regain forty percent of the vision he had before and his depth perception needed a ton of corrective work, but he still _had_ vision, had hearing, had the ability to move half of his mouth without pain. It was the other half he was concerned about.

He managed to avoid seeing his face every time they changed his bandages or tested his sight, but the morbid _need to know_ had begun to gnaw at him constantly. At the sound of another knock, he turned the tap on so whoever would know he was alive, and would hopefully leave him to suffer his exploration alone.

He didn’t look directly at himself until he had unwrapped the bandages, and it felt as if his soul had left his body, choosing to numbly watch the scene from above. The burn was red and raw and _ugly_ , covering a third of his face, his eyebrow gone, as was some of his ear, and his usually wide and bright and expressive eye was narrowed to a slit. He tried to tell himself that it was a good thing, that it meant he still _had_ an eye, that the fact that he could see out of it, blurry or not, meant that he was strong—but, really, it just meant he was able to see the horror more than he could if it was gone.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, but after only a few seconds, it was too much for him to handle. Zuko fell against the bathroom wall with a loud thump. Lu Ten immediately pushed the unlocked door open, falling to his knees beside his cousin. Zuko’s bare face told him everything he needed to know.

“Hey,” Lu Ten touched his shoulder lightly, as if Zuko was a frightened, easily-spooked rabbit “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s call a nurse, okay? Get you wrapped up again.”

“ _No_ ,” Zuko had barely spoken his entire hospital stay and it was evident in the rough scratch of his voice. “No, I can’t—I have to—”

“You have to _nothing,”_ Lu Ten said in a tone that brokered no arguments. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

“I have to be. I have to—” Zuko hissed through his teeth; tears sprung up in his eyes, stinging in the right and burning poker-hot in the left. The tear ducts had been too damaged to save, he knew, but the phantom pain or the _expectation_ of a burn made it feel very real. “I can’t be like this forever.”

“It hasn’t been forever,” Lu Ten said, his timid touch turned into a strong grip and Zuko felt relief in the back of his mind. He needed an anchor to keep him there, afloat and alive and away from the whirlpool of panic. “It’s only been a few days. You need to relax and heal and you can’t do that if you keep working yourself up every ten minutes.”

Zuko knew he was right, and caught himself right before he rubbed his burned cheek, a nervous habit that felt impossible to break. “This is the first time I’ve worked myself up,” he said, though there was no fight in his voice.

“And if no one stops you, you’ll work yourself up for a second time in ten minutes.” Lu Ten’s eyes were fond and worried and Zuko looked away from them. It would take a long while before he would be able to handle care like that. He could barely handle it before. Who knew if he would ever be able to again. “Come on.”

“Who else has seen?” he asked quietly, still avoiding his eyes as he allowed Lu Ten to help him up.

He clicked his tongue and Zuko heard the apology behind it. _So. Everyone._ “Let’s get you taken care of.”

Zuko settled back into the uncomfortable hospital bed, pretending he didn’t feel Tomkin’s gaze or Iroh’s pity or Toklo’s undirected anger, concentrating on the solid feel of Lu Ten’s hand on his elbow. The nurse’s professionally-neutral expression gave him space to breathe amidst the pressure of forced vulnerability, and he allowed her to reapply ointment and bandages without complaint, settling back against the pile of pillows that Toklo had brought from home. He swallowed and closed his eyes as Tomkin climbed into the bed with him, prodding at his hip until Zuko moved over and gave him more space on his uninjured side. The weight of Tomkin’s head on Zuko’s shoulder steadying, as was the sea-fresh scent of his hair, the nose pressing into his neck, the steady breath against his collarbone.

“Love you,” Tomkin muttered. Though Zuko couldn’t make himself respond, he hoped that Tomkin knew he loved him, too. Judging by the way Tomkin cuddled closer and quickly fell asleep half on top of him, Zuko thought he probably did.

✩ _February_ ✩

Their new home in Seoul was smaller than their old one in Tokyo, though not by much. It was in an older building with questionable plumbing and temperamental aircon, but it came furnished, was close to Iroh, and Jet had never set foot inside. That was all they needed for now.

Lu Ten and Toklo claimed two of the three bedrooms for themselves and allocated Zuko and Tomkin to share the other, ostensibly because they were the youngest, but really because Zuko allowed Tomkin to baby him with the least amount of arguments and none of them wanted him to be alone. Zuko couldn’t bring himself to mind, though, as he watched Tomkin teeter on the edge of his bed frame, diligently stringing up fairy lights around the border of the room, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration.

“I’ve decided to be afraid of the dark,” Tomkin had announced the night before, when he heard Zuko wake up with a terrified gasp, the inability to see out of his burned eye doing nothing to calm him from the nightmare of being trapped in the dark forever. He hadn’t told Tomkin what had scared him but, as always, he just _knew_. Tomkin had decided to hate the color green a few days before, after Zuko had flinched away from a green shirt that had once been Jet’s but ended up as Toklo’s. He had decided to love Thai food when Zuko wanted to eat nothing but pad thai after going weeks of eating the bare minimum that the doctors and nurses and other boys forced down his throat. He decided to love Zuko with his entire being a long time ago, and that didn’t need to be said.

Tomkin paused his work when Toklo knocked on the door, brows furrowed, a messy stack of papers in hand. “Sup?” Tomkin asked from his unsteady perch on his bed frame.

“I have some fanmail.”

Zuko’s stomach swooped unpleasantly. “What?”

“We’ve been screening them,” Toklo said quickly. “they’re not—bad. They’re just—for you. And, uh, some for you, too, Little Tom—”

“Don’t call me that,” Tomkin grumbled, but hopped down from the bed and grabbed the offered stacks, passing Zuko’s to him. “I didn’t really think we’d get anything.”

“Neither did I.” Toklo shrugged. “Lu Ten published the new P.O. box and it got, uh, a lot of traction. You have a _ton_ of people happy for you, bud,” he glanced at Zuko and gave him a little smile. “Lots are excited about ’our next adventure’ or whatever.” 

Zuko tried to ignore the sharp pang that always came with hints of their future. It was completely uncertain at that point, and it was all because of him. The one time he brought it up this guilt, the others had erupted into a chorus of disagreeing shouts and arguments that it wasn’t his fault and he locked himself in the dingy bathroom, trying to not hyperventilate with his back pressed against the cold radiator. They didn’t yell as much after that, even during game nights and dinner.

Tomkin glanced at Toklo as he went through his own much smaller stack, and Toklo gave him a small nod. He and Lu Ten had scoured the letters already for any trace of threat or ill-will—it was a good thing, too. They had to weed out quite a few awful ones, threats and hate that people had, for some reason, taken the energy to write, but the positive letters outweighed them an almost laughable amount.

Zuko flipped through the postcards on top of his stack, barely taking in the specific words, but so many had ‘support’ and ‘miss you’ and ‘love you’ and other promises of dedication and understanding and overwhelming love. They came from all over; most were from Asia, but there were a surprising number from Europe and the Americas, even though they hadn’t truly broken into international markets yet.

Toklo left them to themselves, but Zuko barely noticed his departure. He sifted through the stack again, pulling out colorful postcards and letters with bright stickers and a few notes that were short and sweet but obviously heartfelt. He silently reached for the packet of tacks on Tomkin’s bed and Tomkin handed them over curiously.

Zuko carefully pinned the postcards to the wall beside his bed: a Pompompurin from Japan, a hula dancer from Hawaii, a moose from Canada, a Van Gogh painting from France, a photo of himself, Tomkin, Toklo and Lu Ten from the early days of their debut—all evidence of love that was being projected at him from all directions. He put the remaining letters on his bedside table before staring at his new decor.

Tomkin let him have his moments of silence before clearing his throat. “I bet there’s leftover cake from Toklo’s birthday we can steal.”

Zuko nodded, still looking at his wall, before turning to give him a soft smile. “Yeah, okay.”

He was still healing, physically (slowly) and emotionally ( _barely_ ), and this was another step towards being okay.

✩ _March_ ✩

Lu Ten was _made_ for customer service.

He was _charming_ , he was _effervescent_ , he was _sexy as hell_. He was the perfect addition to the Jasmine Dragon. The tea shop had gone from a staff of three (suitable for a steady flow of customers) to seven (barely enough for the popping crowd once fans had realized that Lu Ten _and_ Tomkin _and_ Toklo _and_ Zuko were, for whatever reason, in aprons with name tags and order pads in hand), and the Jasmine Dragon had gone from a hole-in-the-wall tea shop to the hottest open secret in all of Seoul.

“Bori cha for the beautiful woman and oolong for the beautiful girl,” Lu Ten gave the table a bright grin. “And manju for you both,” he added, sending the girl a wink. “Oppa’s treat.”

“Thank you,” her mother said, perplexed but charmed. The daughter, obviously a fan of Soolong, could barely meet his eyes, blushing sweetly to the tips of her ears.

“ _Lu Ten,_ ” Jin, the manager, snapped from behind him. Lu Ten shot the girl another wink before turning to Jin and giving her an even more charming smile. As always, she remained unimpressed. “Stop flirting with customers. I shouldn’t have to tell you this every five minutes.”

“It’s harmless!” he argued, his charming smile turning into an endearing pout. “They come here for the vibes.”

“I don’t care what they come here for, the _vibe_ should be good service and better tea.”

“Aish, you sound like my dad.”

“There are worse people to sound like,” Jin said, rolling her eyes. “That was your final warning for the day, I swear. I’ll put you on dish duty and convince Zuko to come up front.”

Lu Ten clicked his tongue and took the offered pot, delicate and decorated, from one of the back staff. “That’s an empty threat and you know it.”

“He’s done it before.”

“He’s done it _twice_ , and both times he screamed in the walk-in within, like, five minutes.” Lu Ten was made for customer service, but Zuko was not even made for being a customer.

“I’ll bet Toklo he can’t convince your regulars he’s their bias.”

Lu Ten gasped. “Jin-unnie, you _wouldn’t_.” Jin shot him an unimpressed glare and Lu Ten sighed. “I’ll behave, promise.”

She obviously didn’t believe him but gave him a final warning glare before going off to help out on the floor.

Once the lunchtime pop was over, Lu Ten delivered the stack of dishes to the back and grinned when he met Zuko’s amused eyes. “How’s it going back here, Zu?”

Zuko shrugged, rinsing the small teacup in his hand. “Fine. How’s it going up there?”

“More than fine. I got three numbers and two Twitter handles so far and it’s barely one PM. You should give waiting another try, you know? I bet you’d like it.”

Zuko snorted. “I’m fine without people staring at me, thanks.”

Lu Ten scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. “They stare because you’re handsome.” Zuko shook his head, looking back at his work. Lu Ten watched him for a long moment before kicking him gently. “Listen. We’re lucky. We only get local fans, nice ones who can be chill about stuff. Including _you._ It’d be good for you to have some human interaction that isn’t us.”

“Don’t want human interaction at all,” he grumbled.

Lu Ten rolled his eyes, knowing Zuko didn’t mean it. “Think about it. Waiting is like acting and you’re good at acting. You _like_ acting.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Zuko.”

“I will!” Zuko sighed and looked at him. “I will. It’s just—a lot.”

“I know it is, baby cat. I don’t wanna rush you too much.” Lu Ten stepped close and hugged him from the back, kissing his head with a loud smack. “Don’t forget it’s movie night.”

Zuko huffed at him but didn’t push him away, instead elbowing Lu Ten’s side after a moment with brotherly affection. “It’s Tomkin’s turn, he won’t let me forget.”

The day went by quickly and without incident, and Zuko emerged to help sweep the front and diminish the leftover pastries in the glass case.

“This is very Ouran of us,” Toklo reflected, leaning on the table he had just wiped down.

“Is it?” Lu Ten asked. “I think this is less work.”

“That’s fun,” Zuko said after a thoughtful beat, and Lu Ten grinned. Zuko really _did_ like acting. His little baby stoic-and-silent-type. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✩ as ALWAYS ty to [hella1975](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hella1975/pseuds/hella1975) for tomkin, [muffinlance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/pseuds/MuffinLance) for toklo, and [nettlewine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nettlewine/pseuds/nettlewine) for edits.  
> ✩ ty to friends on tumblr and also real life who Fueled the Inspo for this: gingersnapsstars (zuko seeing the scar for the first time), unreliable-faucet-of-ideas (generally adjusting to seoul), and laura (working at the tea shop). much luv, more to come  
> ✩ i don’t have a posting sched for this boy and he’s been giving me a lot of trouble to write for whatever reason and that reason is likely wanting to do nothing but consume bts content. if u have suggestions for interim activities send em my way!  
> ✩ lol luv and miss u guys


	2. two

✩ _April_ ✩

Zuko had always craved touch. _Kind_ touch, to combat his father’s words as much as his hands. It hadn’t taken his groupmates long to figure it out, even without Lu Ten whispering how to make Zuko calm down after he wasn’t around during an anxiety attack. Zuko would sink into a warm touch on his back, would lean heavily into offered shoulders, would fall asleep easy and dreamless with fingers threading through his hair. He needed reassurance that he was good, he was touchable, he was _wanted_.

 _After_ (Jet, ZhaoWorks, Ozai, Tokyo), there was no way that Zuko didn’t need that assurance hundredfold, but he stopped seeking it out. _Before_ , when Jet wasn’t around, he would sit close to Lu Ten or Toklo or Tomkin and wait for them to initiate, which they always would. How could they resist? But _after_ , he didn’t sit close or lean on them or relax into their touch, and instead _flinched_ , horrifyingly, going tense and fearful. It was one of the most painful parts of their new life, not being able to give Zuko what he desperately needed.

It was months after their move to Seoul when Zuko sat beside Tomkin, farther away than Tomkin would like, but closer than he had been in what felt like ages. Tomkin had befriended a stray cat once, before he had met Toklo and had plenty of acquaintances but a shortage of friends. He had spent weeks feeding her scraps and calling to her softly, sitting on the dirt for hours just to earn her trust. She ended up purring in his lap, and Tomkin had never felt more proud. (Juice Box, now a healthy, fluffy, pampered house cat, still purred in his lap every time he went home.)

Tomkin felt just as determined, patient, and thrilled as he had then, maybe even more—the stakes were certainly higher. As subtly as he could, he shifted, inching closer under the guise of getting comfortable. He could feel Zuko watching him out of the corner of his good eye; he always sat with his scar facing away from whoever was closest. He was tense but showed no signs of running away, so Tomkin inched closer and closer until he could feel his warmth.

Zuko swallowed and let out a tiny whine, barely audible.

“Zuko?” Tomkin whispered, looking at him cautiously. Zuko didn’t answer. “Can we cuddle?”

Zuko was still for long enough that Tomkin thought maybe he had made a mistake and moved too quickly, not giving Zuko enough time to steel himself. But after a moment, he gave a sharp nod, still staring straight ahead. Tomkin swooped on him immediately, his patience gone. He made an effort to not jostle Zuko more than he had to, winding himself around him and stretching his legs across his lap rather than manhandling him closer. 

He couldn’t stop himself from cooing encouragingly when Zuko hugged around his shoulders, his unscarred cheek pressing against Tomkin’s shoulder. “Hi, buddy. Missed you.”

“We’ve barely been apart for weeks, Tom, what are you talking about?” Zuko asked, though he knew what he meant.

Tomkin clicked his tongue and nuzzled his hair. “Nobody cuddles as good as you.”

Zuko swallowed and Tomkin could practically feel his blush. “Oh. Thanks.”

Apparently that was all the permission Zuko needed to go back to tentatively sitting beside him, leaning on his shoulder, listening to loud arguments and participating in quiet conversations. It was a gradual process, but he began to do the same to Lu Ten and Toklo, and was eventually plastered against _someone_ at any given time. He began to relax in a way that he hadn’t in a long while; Tomkin wasn’t even sure that he had relaxed like this _before_ , when Jet was a constant presence with a jealous streak. He smiled much more often, laughed on occasion, and even came back from therapy appointments without locking himself in their room for hours after. He was _healing_ , still slowly, but steadier by the day.

✩ _May_ ✩

Zuko poked at his scarred cheek, feeling phantom twinges of pain even though it had healed down into numbness. The doctors said that he might regain some feeling, but Zuko doubted that it would happen for a long time. It was almost uglier than it had been when he was still in the hospital: mottled where it had been red, ridged where it had been raw, depressingly permanent where it had been new, new enough to give Zuko some initial hope of returning to normal.

He held no illusions about normalcy now.

Tomkin sang nonsensical melodies to himself as he wandered down the hall to their room, and continued to do so when he came in, gave Zuko a hug from the back, and flopped onto his bed with a happy _oof._

Zuko watched his reflection, amused and indulgent. “What’s up?”

Tomkin sighed dreamily. “I’m pretending to be in love.”

“You—” Zuko blinked. “You’re pretending? Are you—tricking someone, or—”

“Course not,” Tomkin sighed again. “I just want the feeling.”

Zuko huffed a laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe so,” Tomkin sighed for a third time, as if it functioned as a punctuation. “Do you know what I mean, though?”

Zuko _did_ , though he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit that to himself or not. He had felt in love with Jet, but that was a love that was painful, even when they were on an upswing and Jet was being kind. There was always anticipation of the inevitable downswing, of Jet’s constant scowls and glares and Zuko crying in backstage closets every other concert. Zuko’s stomach dropped as he met his own eyes in the mirror and was reminded once more of the permanent damage from their relationship—from his relationships with not only Jet but Zhao and Zuko’s father.

Tomkin watched him for a moment, his dreamy expression fading into worry. “Zuko?”

“I don’t think I’m lovable,” Zuko said abruptly, his hand going to his scar unconsciously. There was no mistaking _why_ Zuko thought that.

“ _Zuko_ —” Tomkin said, distraught, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

Zuko sighed, shaking his head. “I mean—I know you love me. I know all of you do. But I mean—like that. Like—in love. I think that’s over for me.” Zuko tried his best to sound like he had accepted this depressing fact, like he was okay with solitude, like he was fine with a future where everyone else would find their someone and pair off and leave him alone except for weekly Sunday dinners and bowling nights at Lu Ten’s assistance.

“Why the fuck do you think that?” Tomkin asked, even though he knew why. Zuko _knew_ he knew.

He huffed a bitter laugh. “I know what I look like, Tom. I know what I have to contend with.”

“You’re still hot, Zuko. You gotta know people are gonna be into the scar, it looks badass—”

“It looks _ugly,_ ” Zuko snapped, wincing guiltily when Tomkin flinched. “It looks ugly. _I_ look ugly. No one’s going to want to get close to me, not really. No one’s going to want to kiss—”

“I will.”

Tomkin’s face was earnest, sweet, determined, and Zuko went red immediately, spinning around to look at him head on instead of his mirror reflection. “ _Tomkin._ ”

“We’ve done it before!” he whined, sitting up fully and half-pouting at him.

“I don’t want—I don’t want you to—” he nearly whispered, “ _kiss me_ because you feel sorry for me. That’s not what I want.”

“Zuko, come on,” Tomkin rolled his eyes. “That’s not it.”

“How is that not it? Why else would you want to?”

“I’ve had a crush on you _forever_ , Zuko! I’m not subtle.” 

Zuko stared at him blankly, cheeks reddening even more. “You have a crush on everyone,” he said, but there was a hesitant question in his voice.

“Nuh-uh, not everyone. Just—a lot of people.” Tomkin grinned and framed his face with his hands under his chin, petals to his bright flower face. “You had a crush on me, _too_ , you remember? When we first debuted? If I hadn’t been gone over Lu Ten—”

Zuko wrinkled his nose, his blush spreading to the tips of his ears. “Shut up, I did not—” he argued, knowing for a fact that he had had the _biggest_ crush on Tomkin, one that made his heart flutter every time he looked at him. It had faded over time, settling into a perfect, tight-knit best friendship that both of them needed, but, until Jet, it had burned at Zuko’s heart, pleasant and desperate.

“Did so. You wanted to _kiss me_ ,” he teased, voice lilting and pleasant.

Zuko covered his face with his hands. “Shut up, Tomkin, you’re the worst.”

“Admit it! You wanted to kiss me way before we actually kissed. You wanted to get _married_ —”

“God, shut _up,_ ” Zuko groaned, but Tomkin could see the burgeoning grin half-hidden behind his hands. “I didn’t want to marry you, are you joking?”

“Only a little,” Tomkin laughed. “Come on, let me prove it, sit down.”

“Tomkin—” Zuko stayed hidden, not ready to look at him. “You don’t have to.”

“If not you, whom?” Tomkin sighed dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. “Not that you’re not the best choice ever, I mean, this isn’t a last resort by a long shot, I’d pick you out of a hundred-person line-up. Maybe not a thousand people, I bet I could find someone who _would_ want to marry me, then—”

Zuko shook his head quickly, blushing bright, peeking at him between his fingers. “Are you joking?” he asked.

“I mean, I could probably find someone who’d want to marry me in a hundred people, but I’d still pick you.”

Zuko couldn’t help but sit beside him, then, touched and flustered. “Tomkin—”

“Come here, kiss me,” Tomkin leaned forward before pausing. “Does it hurt, though? Do I need to watch my nose?”

Zuko laughed a little and shook his head, not meeting his eyes. “No. I don’t feel anything.”

Tomkin nodded, gracefully acting like that wasn’t a terribly sad truth. He took charge, instead, bridging the gap between them and catching Zuko’s lips with his own, sweet and chaste. Zuko’s heart raced rabbit-fast. It was _tender_. For whatever it mattered, it was Zuko’s third kiss, a horrible experience sandwiched by Tomkin’s care and genuine love.

They continued until they heard Lu Ten and Toklo come back from their weekly Hyung Lunch, where they pretended to discuss Group Matters but instead got tipsy and debated which animals they could beat in a fight. Zuko didn’t jump away at the noise like he so often did when he was in bed with Jet, instead leaning back and rubbing his unscarred cheek, fuzzy-brained and pleasantly out-of-body.

Tomkin was grinning and he sprung on him, tackling Zuko to the bed and pinning him down in a koala-like hug. “ _Aw_ ,” he cooed, “we’re so _cute_.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Zuko laughed into Tomkin’s shoulder. “I’m not cute.”

“Well, _I_ am, and I say you are, too.” He nuzzled Zuko’s hair for a few moments, not loosening his snuggling grip. “And you are. You’re cute and hot and lovable and I’ll punch anyone who says otherwise. And then Lu Ten will kill them and Toklo will hide the body and it’ll be a whole thing.”

“A whole thing,” Zuko said quietly, pressing his nose against Tomkin’s neck. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

It wasn’t an unusual request. Zuko’s nightmares tended to be worse when he slept on his own, and Tomkin certainly didn’t mind having a live-in cuddle buddy, especially one that smelled as nice as Zuko. He hummed happily and snuggled him tighter. “Uh-huh. Wanna kiss some more?”

“Uh-huh,” Zuko said without hesitation, taking initiative and maneuvering them to lay side by side. Toklo found them an hour later, pretzeled together and snoring in each other’s arms. After snapping a few artful photos, he decided to let them sleep.

✩ _June_ ✩

Iroh nibbled happily at his spicy rice cake, watching the wild youth busking in a bustling Seoul park. He had only likely made a couple hundred won in the half hour that Iroh had been watching him, but that didn’t seem to discourage him. He continued to breakdance with what appeared to be endless enthusiasm, sometimes beatboxing or freestyling verses of odd Russian-Chinese-Korean rap, lost in his own world—until a chance arose to flirt with the old ladies who indulgently threw a bill into the hat in front of him.

Iroh was delighted by the whole performance and watched him for another hour, trusting Jin to manage the Jasmine Dragon by herself. He wasn’t sure that she would even notice his absence; he tended to be a very hands-off, back-of-house owner anyway. The boy wrapped up, chugging from his water bottle before cramming his earnings into his pocket, and Iroh approached.

“Hello there,” he smiled, giving him what he hoped was a charming old-man smile.

The boy squinted at him. Not as charming as he hoped, then. “Hi?”

“I have some people I would like you to meet.”

Perhaps it was worrying how nonchalantly the boy followed him, but he _did_ follow, and kept up an enthusiastic, all-over-the-place, mostly one-sided dialogue the whole walk to the Jasmine Dragon. His name was Lee, Iroh quickly learned, from Russia then Beijing then Seoul, and he was a trainee under one of the bigger entertainment conglomerates. He had huge hopes and small expectations of getting big. He _had_ heard of Soolong, he _did_ want to meet them, and he _absolutely_ wanted to try the chocolate cardamom tea that Iroh was experimenting with.

Iroh was a big believer in destiny; some things were just meant to happen at just the right time and in just the right place. Listening to Lee talk about his passion for music, unprompted, hands waving joyfully, Iroh was sure that this was one of those destined things.

It hadn’t been an easy decision for his boys to make, but it was an inevitable one. They had decided barely a week ago to keep going—they had promised their fans that it wasn’t _so long_ , after all, and they had a _feeling_ that they weren’t done. So, after careful deliberation, Lu Ten, Toklo, Tomkin, and Zuko had decided to be Soolong once more. Not that they had ever truly stopped.

Iroh, for that matter, had decided a key element for them, and informed them happily that he planned to manage the group and would, more importantly, bankroll their comeback. He was surprised when he was met with hugs and not arguments, and he gladly took their acceptance for the blessing that it was.

Their post-decision discussions about what Soolong would look like didn’t require nearly as much deliberation as the discussion about continuing had. They had always wanted more freedom and creative control, and Iroh was all too willing to give it. He had assumed (correctly) that the four of them together knew more about the industry than Iroh could ever hope to learn. Not that he _wouldn’t_ learn, but, at that point, the Soolong framework was all theirs to build.

In the face of Zuko’s medical leave, Lu Ten, Toklo, Tomkin, and Iroh had a much more intense discussion about their history, potential controversies, and inevitable questions. They landed on blacklisting talk about Zuko’s scar, canned a standard response about Jet’s departure, and mandated open lines of communication between _everyone_ involved. Simple answers to complicated problems.

They also had to discuss what Jet had left behind. As much as they hated him, resented him, were better off without him, there was a performance dynamic in Soolong that was suddenly lacking. However reluctantly, they had to acknowledge that they weren’t as _complete_ as they had been before, and although they were happy with the members they had and their potential for success, they _did_ need to corner marketability. Regardless of Iroh’s support, it was an incredibly costly industry. High risk, high reward—and high rates of failure.

Lee, Iroh thought, could be the key.

“I want to keep him,” Lu Ten stated, arms crossed and stubborn, as he watched Lee, Tomkin, and Zuko bicker like lifelong friends.

“You can’t just keep people,” Toklo sighed.

They kept him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✩ as always ty to [hella1975](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hella1975/pseuds/hella1975) for tomkin, [muffinlance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/pseuds/MuffinLance) for toklo, and [nettlewine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nettlewine/pseuds/nettlewine) for edits.  
> ✩ ty to both unreliable-faucet-of-ideas and gingersnapsstars on tumblr for the meeting lee suggestion and also probably other people for other things that i dont remember  
> ✩ luv u guyz


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